


Sick

by RobinTrigue



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: ABO verse, Beta Jason, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, almost a sickfic, mutual love and support, omega Chad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8457154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinTrigue/pseuds/RobinTrigue
Summary: It’s hard to wrestle when you’re an omega. It’s hard to date when you’re an omega. Good thing Chad Gable is the awesomest at pretty much everything there is to be awesome at.





	

Nobody liked an Omega in wrestling.

Sure, the WWE was becoming more _diverse_ , making so much _progress_. No one could deny that it was a much more accepting place than back in the Attitude Era. But most of that progress was only good for the big guys like Colin Cassady or Brock Lesnar, the kind who could throw a person into next Tuesday if you gave them shit for it. Progress wasn’t for the little guys. Yeah, Daniel Bryan’s story was inspirational, beloved, but he was just one guy. One guy doesn’t change an industry. You need to have a pattern, you need to have a second guy and a third before people started liking short, skinny omegas who wrestle.

And nobody liked Chad Gable.

The amateur circuit is a lot more forgiving. If you can get your holds right and pin your guy, they would take you no matter your size, shape, or status. But pro wrestling, out there on the big stage with all the fans, you were expected to be a superhero; not some little omega dude who made too many puns to carry a conversation.

Thing was though, Chad Gable was _totally_ sick when it came to wrestling. So awesome. And since he knew he wasn’t going to get a big break, he’d just have to find a way to _make_ one happen.

The big break obviously came when Jason Jordan put word out backstage that he was looking for a new partner. Chad had watched Jason; he watched everyone. So Chad _knew_ with absolute certainty that he and Jason would be probably one of the best tag teams in the whole world, possibly one of the best tag teams of all time. Chad didn’t like to boast, but come on; their styles fit perfectly together, and even if they didn’t, Chad was more than talented enough to make up for any incongruencies.

And Jason rebuffed him. Of course he did. Chad couldn’t be too hurt or surprised; the only reason it stung at all was because he was so goddamn sure that they’d be perfect together, if only Jason could _see_ it.

“Listen Gable, I can see what you’re talking about,” Jason said the third time he approached him, “but I just don’t think it would work. I know we’re both from the amateur circuit, I know it looks good on paper -”

“Well if it looks so good then what’s the problem?” Chad asked.

“I-” Jason faltered. “Look, Gable, wrestling’s all about being able to perform, and out there is the biggest stage you’ve ever been on, so I-”

“Except the Olympics,” interrupted Chad.

Jason nodded reluctantly. “Yes, except that... I just don’t see us being a good fit for one another. I’m sorry.”

Bullshit. Chad knew basically everything there was to know about wrestling. They would be a great fit. He said as much, adding “And when you change your mind, you know where to find me – ready, willing, and Gable!” Catchphrases are awesome. Everyone loves someone with a catchphrase. It was a surefire in. Jason left anyway.

He watched Jason go, and scribbled his own name onto Jason’s locker. Jordan and Gable. It wasn’t forward, not really; Jason would totally agree as soon as he stopped being completely blind to their awesomeness.

It wasn’t like Chad wasn’t used to it. People were always dismissing him before they’d even considered him. The main reason it sucked was because Chad Gable was the best in the universe and why couldn’t everyone _see_ that they were wrong?

 

Jason Jordan could pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Chad Gable. It was 26 seconds past 4:05 PM on Wednesday, July 15, 2015, when his back-to-belly passed Cutler to Chad, and Chad turned it into a bridge. Their first finisher. Their first match. The chemistry had been explosive. He didn’t have a clue how Chad had known it would be, all those weeks of insisting they would work well together that he had dismissed out of hand because... because. Then suddenly it was Chad Gable and it always had been and that was all Jason would ever dream of wanting for the rest of his life.

Jason had tried to push it away, because well, he was a professional, he wanted to win and be the best wrestler on the strongest team, and dating a co-worker was bad form at the very least. Plus, Jason didn’t really believe in ‘love at first sight,’ never had; something he had to keep reminding himself every time Chad smiled and waved at him.

Jason managed to pretend he wasn’t in love with Chad Gable for maybe three whole matches. Three entire matches of Chad jumping onto the ropes, waving his dorky, beautiful towels everywhere, saying his dorky, beautiful catchphrase every chance he got, looking up at Jason with that grin, inviting him to share in the joke. Part of Jason didn’t want to _want_ to as much as he did, part of him was still whispering that this wasn’t a great matchup and maybe he should see if Elias was interested in tagging with him. But that part of Jason was so, so wrong, and it became even wronger every single time the two of them totally kicked ass. And when he finally gave up on pretending, when he finally completed Chad’s ‘ready, willing,’ with his own ‘and Gable,’ the entire audience of the house show roared with applause, and Jason couldn’t help thinking they were completely right to do so.

Chad Gable had stared up at him with wide, thrilled eyes. “So sick,” he’d whispered. Part of Jason would have expected him to sound grateful, at least surprised, but he didn’t at all. He sounded _happy_ , like he was happy _for_ Jason that Jason had finally figured out they had meant to be together.

Jason was happy too. And then Chad had leapt into his arms, celebrating their inevitable win before the match had even begun.

He managed to resist _telling_ Chad he was in love with him for maybe a month. It was possibly the most fraught he’d ever felt before asking someone out, because well, Chad Gable was _amazing._ If he wasn’t interested in Jason, then where would that leave him? It wasn’t as though he could very well break up their team, not when it was the best tag team Jason had ever been in, not when it was the best Jason had ever wrestled in his _life_. Sometimes it really felt like they had potential to be the best team in NXT, maybe even champs if they played their cards right and won some big matches. If Chad turned him down, well, he’d just have to keep wrestling and being in love, because Jason was pretty certain he would never be able to wrestle with anyone else ever again. It simply wouldn’t compare.

 “Chad?” he said one day, after they’d finished shooting some hoops. It truly defied all reason that Chad could be as good as he was, but then again, he was Chad Gable.

“Yes JJ?”

He winced. The new nickname irritated him, just like the towels had used to, just like the catchphrase had used to. Jason had never had a nickname before. He suspected he’d begin to enjoy it about as quickly as he’d learnt to enjoy every other nugget of joy Chad had brought into his life. “I’ve... had something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Sure thing, man,” Chad said, face dropping into the sort of seriousness it always got when he was listening, when he was studying something very intently. Chad Gable never did anything by halves.

It occurred to JJ that he never wanted to see Chad look sad.

“This whole time, wrestling together – you were right, we make the perfect team.”

“We do.” Chad nodded, as though this wasn’t a compliment so much as a mere statement of fact, and Jason beamed.

“Well, I’ve been...” He sighed, staring up into the sky for the strength to ask. “I’ve been wondering, would you ever want to be something more than a tag team?”

Chad stared at JJ in confusion, until JJ explained.

“I really like you,” he said. “A lot. Romantically.”

Chad’s face went from studious to celebratory in the blink of an eye. “Dude,” he said, “that’s _awesome!_ ”

Chad jumped onto Jason and kissed him. Jason’s hands wrapped around the back of his head to keep him from tumbling to the ground, fingers tangling in his hair; Chad’s fingers wrapped around the back of Jason’s smooth neck. They kept kissing. JJ had to admit it was pretty sick, dude.

 

For the first few months, Chad hadn’t been sure it would work out between them.

The thing was, there was a reason he didn’t date other wrestlers. It got... weird. Everyone he’d ever been with had had a _thing_ about him being better than them in the ring. Mostly they were just weird about it, didn’t like talking much, seemed sort of offended and huffy whenever he had a match. One of his exes got angry, had broken up with Chad after Chad had beat him in a match even though they were both wrestlers, that was what they _did_. One alpha he’d dated hadn’t even been a wrestler but had still freaked Chad out enough that he’d blocked him from his phone instead of actually breaking up; he kept going on about how he was able to overpower Chad in bed even though Chad was so _strong_ and _muscular_. On the rare occasion he hung out with another omega wrestler socially, they’d had similar stories.

Hey, he’d figured. JJ was a good guy, and a damn good kisser. What the hell. Give it a shot. So he did.

It wasn’t like Chad was trying to date Zack Ryder or, god forbid, Enzo Amore, the difference in ability wouldn’t be astronomical. And Chad wasn’t better at _everything_ , JJ was a talented guy. Their strengths balanced each other out, Chad’s endurance and mat work wearing their opponents down for JJ’s magnificent rushes of adrenaline. But Chad was better at _some_ things. He was always better than people at some things, if not at most things, and, well, dating could get weird.

Whenever it was time for them to practice, sparring with each other when there were no other teams around, Chad did keep a close eye. He sure liked JJ, but if it was going to be a problem again, if there was going to be an issue with how Chad could probably beat the entire fucking roster with a broken leg and one arm tied behind his back, then...

“I’m not going to hold back just because I like you, you know,” he told JJ one afternoon as they locked up.

JJ only stared at him, confused. “Why would you hold back?” he asked.

Chad had him on the mat in thirty seconds flat, caught in a hold that JJ couldn’t get enough grip or momentum to break. He tapped in less than a minute. Chad released him, watching cautiously as JJ pulled himself up on the ropes, breathless.

“That was _incredible!_ ” JJ beamed. “Can you do that again? I’ll try my best, but I really think you might have an unbreakable lock figured out! Wow!”

Chad couldn’t help but laugh with relief. “Okay, but then you’ve got to practice your running clotheslines on me! I want to get better at withstanding impact.”

And... it was amazing. As the honeymoon period wore on, Chad kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, only it never did. No matter how well he wrestled, all JJ ever did was smile at him. It felt pretty damn awesome.

 

It was leaving London that Chad slipped up on his meds. The time zones, the jet lag; Jason learnt that his partner had a very delicate system, and a couple of missed doses were all that was needed to send him into an unexpected heat.

Jason, being a beta, could do nothing about it.

It was scary, to see his strong and, well, _able_ partner be reduced to a whimpering mess, begging for things Jason couldn’t give him. He wished he could. They wound up calling an old friend of Chad’s from back home, someone who had helped him out when amateur wrestling had fluctuating rules on suppressant use and he couldn’t afford to take any in case they were banned again before they left his system. The friend had shown up, seemed nice enough, sympathetic, and if Chad trusted him Jason felt he should too. (Jason wasn’t sure he trusted anyone to take care of Chad.)

He forced himself to stay on the other side of the apartment. He knew reasonably he should go out for a run or something, but whenever he went to put his shoes on, a voice in his head asked what if something went wrong, what if Chad needed him, was he really going to make him wait for as long as it would take to run all the way back? So instead he resumed pacing, staring blankly at pages of magazines, and pacing.

When he started to actually worry about wearing a hole in the carpeting, he went to the kitchen instead and made plates of sandwiches. He left them and bottles of orange Gatorade by the bedroom door, then fled back to his self-imposed exile before he heard anything that could make his stomach twist more than it was twisting already. He tried not to think about how he’d last seen his boyfriend, writhing on the bed and begging Jason to do something, _anything._ He tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong.

The shower turned on while Jason wasn’t watching the news, and he tried to not think about that either, but his hopes went up anyway and were rewarded when Chad’s friend emerged from the bedroom, hair damp and empty plate in hand.

“I uh...” he started, looking not sure whether to thank Jason or apologise. Jason decided to take control, since this was a situation where he _could._

“Thanks, man,” he said. “I’ll take that.” He put the plate on the kitchen counter, the clink of ceramic on tile strikingly loud even over the bangs and chatter from the TV. He and the guy shook hands. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Under different circumstances they could have made friends probably, but not when Jason was a nervous mess of insecurity and worry and frustration and jealousy _._

Jason went back to the sofa after he left. He turned the TV off and stared at the blank screen, still not approaching the bedroom. He wanted to give Chad his space, he reminded himself, and surprisingly enough he managed to stay seated until a hoarse voice called, “JJ?”

Jason was there a split second later. Chad Gable was in the bathtub, holding a pumice stone that he kept pressing under the water to watch it bob up again. After a quick once-over to make sure the other was okay, each seemed to avoid eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” Jason blurted out, breaking the silence. “I wish I wasn’t a beta, so I could have been there for you; you deserve better.”

“ _You’re_ sorry?” said Chad. “Better? JJ, I’m...”

There wasn’t anywhere to look _but_ each other’s eyes now. Chad gestured vaguely at his entire, _perfect_ body, and his _perfect_ self who Jason _loved_ and _adored_ with his whole entire heart. Chad seemed tired and a little incredulous, but seeing him was enough to make Jason smile again, all his worries disappearing because Chad Gable was _so awesome._

He reached forward to tuck a lock of wet hair behind his boyfriend’s ear. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking. We need a name for our team.”

“Yeah?” The pumice stone bobbed unattended by Chad’s calves.

“Yeah. I was thinking something like, American Alpha?”

Chad narrowed his eyes, trying to tell if this was some kind of jibe. “Really?”

“Really. Because we’re the best.”

Chad’s face split into a wide grin. “Dude, that’s totally sick!”

JJ leant forward, and the best tag team in the whole goddamn world exchanged a wet, soapy kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever remember that American Alpha exists and spontaneously burst into tears? Because I do. 
> 
> (“This is the biggest stage Gable’s ever been on” is actual commentary from their first together match, literally two minutes after they were talking about him being an Olympian. I love the arrogance of pro wrestling.)


End file.
